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Chapter Thirty-Nine
The fairgrounds came alive with cheers.
Emily had almost reached the end of her set list, and she was pumped. She could perform all night for such a crowd. Only one thing marred this night—Nash hadn’t come.
She tried to tell herself that he’d decided to keep a low profile at home, that he was okay, but her gut told her differently. Nash was in a word, reckless, and nothing would’ve kept him back from her concert unless something was wrong or—or he’d changed her mind about her.
Which one was it?
“Small town heartbreak hurts big time when I can’t stop seeing you around, seeing you around, your arms around me.”
A small, relentless prick of anxiety dug through the pit of her stomach as she sang through the chorus of the break-up song. Nash not stopping by to see her these past few days when he’d been here all along had pricked at her confidence. His continued absence tonight had cut a nagging wound that leaked out the worst of her fears and insecurities.
Didn’t he want her anymore? After making his amends, did that give him the freedom to walk away without looking back?
Such unrestrained passion as theirs had the tendency to die out quickly—she knew people said that—but she didn’t want to accept that this was the end, especially since nothing about how she felt had died for her.
Emily sang out this pain, feeling a certain sense of release through her music. “The ghost of your eyes are on me, they’re on me, you’re on me.”
Was it possible to feel such ranges of emotion in one night? Worry for him, worry for herself, worry for what they had. The giddiness, the despair, the highs, the lows, it was almost too much for her to bear; the sensations blasted through her like she was the weeping heroine in an opera.“They said you were bad for me, bad for me, bad on me, bad boy.”
She noticed the crowd splitting in the front. A group of women shouted out with recognition. In a moment, she saw who it was. Nash was making his way to the stage. A blonde woman guided him along. Kylee! A spark of jealousy rushed through her when she saw the classical beauty making a big deal over him, until she saw that he was hurt. His eye was bruised and one of his cheeks was scratched up. Concern immediately overrode her resentment.
“Can you remember our kisses…?”Her singing stuttered to a stop.
That’s why he hadn’t come—he’d been in a fight. She felt horrible for doubting him.
“Someone wants to talk to you,” someone shouted out from below.
She stood up from the stool, holding her guitar tightly. The group below helped Nash up and over the stage. She grabbed his arms. His vivid blue eyes swallowed her with the passion she saw swirling inside, as he clambered up next to her like Romeo climbing through her window.
As soon as he found his feet, he was pulling her close. It was like they’d never been apart. His strong arms wouldn’t let her go, even if she’d tried to be free. “Always singing about those bad boys, huh?” His voice echoed through the fairgrounds from the mic attached to her cheek. “Tell me you’re through with them. How about you take a good old country boy instead?”
“Aww.” That came from the crowd.
Emily smiled. The majority of her audience really was female. She was grateful that they enjoyed this moment as much as she did. And Nash was right—he really wasn’t a bad guy, after all… despite that blackening eye. “I do,” she said. This felt strangely like giving their vows. She ran her hands down his muscular back. “I do want a good guy. As long as you’ll take the small-town girl.”
“Yeah, I like her a lot,” he said. “I really dig her private concerts, though, I mean this is great, and no offense to anybody here, but I can’t wait to get you alone.”
More “aww’s” followed that too. The women who’d brought their boyfriends snuggled closer against their sides.
“I was thinking of taking you on a big music tour, a private one,” Nash said, “say to Hawaii or something?”
Her heart leaped in response. “Is that a proposition or a proposal?” she asked.
“With an upstanding girl like you? Ah honey, that’s a proposal.” He glanced over to the side of the stage near the curtain. “Plus your brother is standing right over there, so…”
Emily grabbed his collar and pulled him near before he could get another word out. She was dying to get another kiss out of this man, and he was happy to oblige. Her hands ran through his hair, and hardly caring that the world was watching, she let him know just how welcome his proposal was the instant that their lips met and they made their feelings very public.
There was no doubt that this was real.
A loud explosion sounded through the air, like a shotgun, before the beautiful sparkles of cold fireworks rained down in a colorful shower around them. She broke through their kissing to ask him in a whisper, “Was that you?”
“Either that or Old Man Funches,” he said with a lopsided grin. “We’d better hurry and find ourselves a justice of the peace before he gets it in his mind to have a shotgun wedding. I saw him wielding that thing earlier. The sheriff made the mistake of making him a temporary deputy.”
She laughed and hugged him. Sometimes she had no idea when Nash was serious or not. That was part of the fun. Emily had a feeling that he’d been through a lot tonight, and that Old Man Funches was just part of the equation. She had so many questions to ask him, the first was how he got those bruises all over his face, but that would have to wait until there were no microphones.
His fingers trailed down her back. “That’s a yes?” he asked.
“It’s definitely not a ‘no.’”
“Oh no, I’m not letting you get away with that.” He heaved her up off her feet, and she gasped as she found herself face to face with him. Her red cowboy boots dangled over the ground, her skirt caught up in his hands. “Make me the happiest man here tonight.”
River was going to kill her, but… she nodded. “Yes, Nash.”
Not an original answer, but it echoed the desire of her heart—it was being with him, not with going viral or seeking fame, making slugs of money or accumulating insane amounts of land. Performing in front of an energetic crowd was invigorating, but now? Looking into his eyes, she realized what was more fulfilling—this life she planned to build with him. forget the fame. She preferred the quiet country life. She couldn’t hide it from herself anymore.
Nash didn’t know it and he’d never ask of it her, but she was going to be a cattle rancher wife, one who performed at an occasional county fair and wrote music on the side and sold it to fellow artists just to hear her heart play on the radio. But mostly, one who cultivated this beautiful land, played with her kids, grew old with her husband, and who just lived the kind of life that love songs were based on.
